


The Limits of Love and Mortality

by Jason_Abram



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jason_Abram/pseuds/Jason_Abram
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The notion of life after death is spoken of as a time for healing and peace. It is a natural way to cope with a permanent loss. There is no healing or peace found when life and death become one, however. There is only constant grieving, sadness, and pain. With no way to move on, even the strongest of bonds can be sorely tested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a project we started a few years ago. It started off as a short story and exploded a little as we both kept coming up with ideas. Please feel free to let us know what you think and if there's anything you think we can improve on.

           Dark.

 

            The room was dark. A heavy curtain made of thick fabric covered the single window in the room, blocking out the reddish orange hues that would have otherwise come through from the setting sun. The room was sparsely furnished - a simple dresser and bed placed together by the shrouded window. The occupant of the bed slept fitfully, brow furrowed until the skin on the forehead creased and wrinkled, punctuating sunken eye sockets and cheekbones. Dull, chapped lips were parted to allow shallow, raspy breaths to pass through. All around the figure were thick, heavy blankets that weighed down on the chest, already burdened by the effort of merely breathing. In spite of this, the person shivered intermittently, his pale, clammy skin slick with a sheen of sweat.

            Sick.

            He was deathly sick. A fever that would not come down. Coughs that kept him up all hours of the day and night. A failing heartbeat that fluttered and fluxed. Intense pain in his head that kept him in a constant state of agony, dulled now by the approach of death the way the medicines never could, never had. Most of the time, he was unaware of his surroundings. In those rare moments when he was alert, he could not even recognize his own brother, his caretaker. This delirium was joined by fits of stupor, leaving him unable to do anything but lie in pain and feel his body break down on him, fail him for the first time in a long time. The last time.

            A sliver of light pierced the stillness of the room as another man slipped in, mindful to quickly shut the door to keep the unwanted light out. As he slowly crossed the room to the bedside, his fingertips delicately skimmed the surface of the dresser, activating an array which caused a single candle, standing in the center of the runes, to feebly spark to life. Its glow was so dim that it barely did more than change the shade of the room from pitch black to stone gray. The figure in the bed gave a twitch of his eyelids, the only sign that he had noticed a change at all.

            “Brother,” the healthy man murmured softly, his words weighted with sorrow like a stone tied around his ankle, dragging him down under the murky, icy waters. He knelt by the sick man and brushed his knuckles across a protruding cheekbone, its edge looking pronounced and gaunt in the weak light.

            The sick man’s lips twitched open a little farther, and a wheezing breath escaped. He put his tongue behind his back teeth, inhaled shakily, and forced out the ghost of a name.

            Al.

            “Brother,” Alphonse repeated quietly, trailing his fingertips along his brother’s cheek affectionately.

            Typhus had hit Alphonse’s brother like a shot in the dark. He had just returned from a campaign that had taken him all the way from the Central City to the northwestern border. The Fuhrer had called specifically for the aid of the Fullmetal Alchemist to lead a brigade in a skirmish with the neighboring military state of Drachma. Fights breaking out on Amestris’ border with Drachma were frequent, and the team had been confident that this battle would be as short-lived as those before it; they were correct. Victory came easily, and the soldiers returned to their homes within a few days.

            Most of them died the following week, quarantined in temporary housing near the hospital. Edward was the last of his brigade left – almost three thousand men dead - and the military doctor that had treated him did not anticipate the alchemist living through the night. Friends, peers, and admirers had been through all afternoon to see the Hero of the People, and the few that were actually allowed in to see Edward had all been given a mask to protect themselves and a very short moment to say goodbye. The disease needed to be contained, so extreme caution had been exercised. Only Alphonse was allowed to attend to his dying brother now.

            A soft knock on the door broke the stillness. Alphonse mumbled for the visitor to enter, eyes never straying from his brother’s pained expression, his clenched jaw, his matted bangs.

            General Mustang knelt down next to the boy, eyes fixed on his subordinate, his prodigal pupil, the Fullmetal Alchemist. He said nothing, merely knelt there next to the bed. Eventually, Alphonse let his gaze slip from his brother and up to the General. Even in the low light, Alphonse could make out the broken look on the other man’s face, so similar to his own. General Mustang made it clear that he thought of the younger Elric brother like a son, but Edward had always been special to him. When those two were in the same room, it was like fireworks were going off in brilliant reds and blues. Everything was loud and fast and colorful, the air practically crackling with sarcastic wit and banter gone out of control. They breathed chaotic, beautiful light and magic into each other and everything around them. Now, though, that was all gone. The energy that had once radiated from Edward was gone, leaving nothing for Mustang’s to react with. He seemed so fragile, so broken, kneeling next to his subordinate. His Edward.

            “May I?” Mustang asked quietly, voice tight and hesitant.

            Alphonse inclined his head in reply, curious as to what the man would do but more than willing to accommodate his wishes. A second later he was holding his breath, staring in wide-eyed wonder as the General leaned forward and pressed his lips to Edward’s forehead. The tenderness of the action, so unlike the military man, struck a chord within Alphonse, and tears that had been bravely held at bay all day now sprung silently from his eyes. He watched on with rapt attention as the General smoothed Edward’s dirty blond hair away from his face, ashen and still. He pressed another kiss to the bridge of the man’s nose. Edward made a small noise, a tiny whimper of acknowledgment. Gloved fingers traced the shell of Edward’s ears before those large hands cupped his whole jaw and Mustang’s lips touched Edward’s. The action was so tender, so painful, that Alphonse had to look away. As the General pulled back, a tear fell from his eye, landing on Edward’s cheek.

            “Thank you” was all Roy Mustang said as he slipped out of the room, leaving the brothers alone again. Alphonse watched with bewildered anguish as the corner of Edward’s mouth twitch upward.

           

            Within the next hour, he was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The notion of life after death is spoken of as a time for healing and peace. It is a natural way to cope with a permanent loss. There is no healing or peace found when life and death become one, however. There is only constant grieving, sadness, and pain. With no way to move on, even the strongest of bonds can be sorely tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a project we started a few years ago. It started off as a short story and exploded a little as we both kept coming up with ideas. Please feel free to let us know what you think and if there's anything you think we can improve on.

 

A heavy snowstorm came that night, so everyone agreed to wait until the following evening to bury the body. They would have to move the snow and thaw the ground in order to dig the hole, so they moved Edward down to the hospital’s morgue temporarily. Normally, with a body that had been afflicted, it was best to put it in the ground quickly lest the disease spread to the living, but nothing could be done to help the weather. Alphonse saw to it that his brother was safely put away – glad for the cold weather and the hampering effect it would have on the rate of decay of the body - before he set to work.

 

            A few blocks from the barracks stood a research lab, officially named Laboratory Nine. It had been given to Edward for use in his research on weather alchemy. The laboratory itself had one floor that was above ground, two more below, and a tall tower that rose high into the sky. Laboratory Nine was built perfectly for studying not only the workings of the skies but also the tremors of the earth. The brothers had not made much headway in the field, admittedly, since they had not been at it that long before Edward had been called away to fight.

           

It was here that Alphonse spent the next eighteen hours, scribbling furiously on the walls and floor of the lab’s basement. Complex arrays copied from a worn notebook he and his brother had sworn never to open again after restoring their bodies. Three packs of brand new, white chalk worn down to nubs, and it almost wasn’t enough. Alphonse had always been meticulous and thorough with his transmutations; these arrays called for every bit of his concentration. There was no time to grieve when there was work to be done. The boy scarcely stopped to eat, let alone think of anything other than the science of life. His specialty – plant life and vegetation - lent well to the complexity of human transmutation. It was his talent with flora that had provided the final push in restoring their bodies, after all. Though he didn’t have Edward’s genius and skill when it came to alchemy, he had to try.

           

He had to. Edward would have done it for him. After restoring their bodies, they had made a promise to each other never to attempt to create life again. But Alphonse knew, and he was almost certain that Edward did also, that another vow ran deeper between them. So long as one Elric lived, so would the other. It was an unspoken understanding between the brothers, almost a function of their minds, that they would live together or not at all. Alphonse knew from the moment his brother fell ill that he would either keep Edward alive or die trying. Any other alternative was implausible. His brother’s life was his own.

           

Under the cover of night, Alphonse broke silently into the morgue and carried away his brother’s body. It was no feat of strength to carry him; where Edward had been lean and slight, Alphonse was tall and stocky. It was clear which brother spent his days researching out in the field and which preferred to run numbers and experiments in a lab. Edward had always been like that, nose in a book with one hand scribbling notes and the other drawing arrays. It was a talent that Alphonse, respectfully, had no patience for. He preferred to collect ingredients for transmutations when Edward needed an assistant and help out anyone he could with odd jobs and handyman work when he didn’t. The result was an impressive girth that more closely resembled his metal body than the frame of his childhood.

           

Back in the lab, Alphonse laid his brother carefully in the middle of the largest array, positioned in the center of the room. As he stood up to survey his work, his throat tightened at the sight of what his brother had been reduced to. Pale, lifeless flesh, sunken by disease and tinged an eerie gray color. His beautiful, thick, golden hair turned a pale yellow, stringy and limp around his face. A concave stomach and hipbones that might as well have been sticking out right through his thin skin. It was almost an impossible sight to see. He had always thought of his brother as immortal, in a way, though the brothers had come face to face with death more times than Alphonse would care to remember.

 

            “You always attempt to lay down your life for mine, brother,” Alphonse spoke softly, kneeling by his brother’s body, “I’ll never let you get away with it.” Placing the notebook down, he opened it to a page with a diagram of a rune. Then, he slipped a small knife out of his pocket and drew an X on his palm, blood quickly pooling inside his cupped hand. With practiced precision, Alphonse copied the rune onto his brother’s forehead. Satisfied, he quickly wrapped his wound with a bandage pulled from his pocket and stepped back.

           

This wasn’t textbook human transmutation by any means. In all of the reported cases of soul binding alchemy that Alphonse had read about, the soul was bound to an inanimate metal object, citing that the iron in the blood reacted well to the iron in the metal. However, Alphonse’s theory eliminated the need for a soul to bind to an empty shell. It was almost better to die, Alphonse knew, than to live unable to feel or smell or taste anything in his environment. To be inhuman. Edward couldn’t know, and Alphonse would be damned if he allowed him to discover just how traumatizing the experience was.

           

The new alchemical reactions Alphonse developed his theories on involved the signature and properties of his blood reacting with Edward’s blood and calling his soul back from the other side of the Gate. It was a lot of guesswork, but so were all of the brothers’ other attempts, so Alphonse let himself have faith in his theory. In truth, the theory itself reflected his relationship with his brother; the sentimentality of it was apparent. There had always been something emotional in a human transmutation, soul binding or otherwise, and the emotional bond Alphonse had with his brother was what the transmutation would draw on for its power.

           

Alphonse hadn’t developed his theory in a week. It would have been impossible. These ideas had first run through his head almost from the moment he had really come to grips with his armor body and begun to think about it scientifically instead of just a miracle his brother had managed. He had done all he could to research it with his brother during those long years where they had searched for the answers they needed to regain their bodies, but there were always more important things to think about. After all, the object was to regain a body, not a soul. Still, after they had accomplished the impossible and were whole again, Alphonse had persisted with his research. Edward had wanted no part in it, and he had warned his brother against it. Human transmutation hadn’t brought them anything good in life, and he wasn’t about to go poking into it further.

           

However, all that time in his metal body had given Alphonse an insatiable need to know more. If the Gate hadn’t taken his body and soul as payment – if it had merely taken his life – would Edward have been able to call his soul back into his original body? The question haunted him, bothered him like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. Thus his theory was developed, the research was done, secret experiments performed, but this was the final step in finding out if his years and years of searching were fruitless: a human experiment.

            Alphonse didn’t like to think of his brother as an experiment; he loathed it completely. However, he had a scientific mind and no other way to think about it. So, he pushed sentimentality aside and carried on with his work.

           

Everything was set. Alphonse gazed at his brother, taking in the sight of the body and forcing himself not to picture the horrible bruising on his back from the blood pooling there when he died. Instead, he focused on his favorite memory of his brother, just moments after he had performed his final human transmutation. He was sitting cross-legged, staring in silent wonder at his hands. The way he had looked at Alphonse, cried when he began to cry, laughed hysterically with unbridled joy the first time they had hugged since they were children - that was the way Alphonse chose to see his brother now.

       

            He knelt and pressed bloody fingertips to the array, holding the mental image of his brother in his head to bolster himself as he activated it. The basement started to glow an ominous violet as all of the arrays activated together. Alphonse felt all of his nerves catch fire at once as if lightning had suddenly hit the deepest parts of his veins, but he grit his teeth and kept his hands on his array. He reined in his body’s reaction, focusing instead on what was happening. The air inside the circle was swirling as if he had summoned a cyclone, kicking up dust and whipping up all of his research notes into a whirlwind. He ducked his head, squinting at the center of the array. It appeared that there was a pocket of calm in the dead center of the turmoil.

 

            A blinding flash of light stunned Alphonse briefly, cutting through the dark purple lights of the activated arrays and signaling the end of the transmutation. The boy breathed a sigh of relief, slumping to rest his forearms on the floor and give his body a break. He inhaled deeply, coughing furiously when he breathed in all the dust in the air.

      

            Alphonse’s ears picked up the sound of someone else coughing, as well, and he whipped his head up to stare towards the center of the array. There, sitting up, was Edward, hacking wetly into his fist. Edward. Coughing and breathing and alive.

           

“Brother!” Alphonse shrieked, caught between a multitude of emotions. He pushed himself up and ran, hunched over, towards his brother, dropping all of his weight down right in front of the other man. A hand was brought up to touch his cheek, gleefully feeling a glowing warmth pulsing beneath his skin.

           

“Alphonse,” Edward murmured, eyes fixed on his brother with a dead look. After a moment, that blank stare turned into one of confusion. “Alphonse?” he repeated a little louder, a little clearer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The notion of life after death is spoken of as a time for healing and peace. It is a natural way to cope with a permanent loss. There is no healing or peace found when life and death become one, however. There is only constant grieving, sadness, and pain. With no way to move on, even the strongest of bonds can be sorely tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a project we started a few years ago. It started off as a short story and exploded a little as we both kept coming up with ideas. Please feel free to let us know what you think and if there's anything you think we can improve on. From now, we're going to try to update this every Monday at noon. That way, it stays a little regular.

Edward woke to the last cracklings of electricity and dust swirling through the air. He managed to push himself into a sitting position and started coughing the dust from his still-sensitive lungs. He could just barely hear his name over the sounds of the rough coughs, and he found himself confused.

“Alphonse,” he rasped as his brother flew into the center of the circle and hugged him tightly. “Alphonse… Where… What…? Where are we? The last thing I remember is… Is… Roy.” It was a hazy memory, but the feeling of lips on his was unforgettable.

Al ignored the question, his hands a flurry of motion as he took Edward’s vitals. His temperature was fine, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with his lungs. Edward’s heartbeat was normal, eyes full of life and shining again. Alphonse couldn’t understand it. The Gate hadn’t taken anything, and yet, the transmutation was a complete success.

“Oh wow,” Al whispered. “It… It worked. I can’t believe it. It actually worked.” Edward was silent, pushing Al back and off of him. His head hurt, his muscles ached, and he felt like crap. He wasn’t even sure if he still had typhus or not. For all he knew, he could just drop dead in ten minutes.

“Alphonse… The last time, I saw you, I had typhus, and I was dying. And now, you’re sitting here telling me that ‘it’ worked. Tell me honestly, Alphonse. Did I die?” Again, Alphonse said nothing, staring at his hands.

“We’re at the lab, Brother. I… I’m sorry,” Alphonse whispered, avoiding the last question. “I couldn’t… I’m not ready to bury you, Brother. We… We only just got our bodies back. We have our research. You have… You have Roy.” Edward shook his head, trying to figure out what Alphonse wasn’t saying. Then, the realization hit him, and fear for his brother flooded his veins.

“Oh no. No. No, Al… Alphonse, tell me you didn’t… You know it’s forbidden! We swore we would never use that kind of alchemy ever again! How could… Why would you! You could have lost your body again. You never know what the Gate is going to take as payment!”

“I’m sorry, Brother! I had to. I couldn’t… I couldn’t watch you die, Brother. I had to bring you back. And the transmutation was successful. There’s no blood except for what was left after… After you died.” Edward sighed, bowing his head.

“Al… That was such a risky, dangerous thing to do. Why… We swore. Never again.” He gave a violent shiver and wrapped his arms around himself. “Let’s get home. It’s a little cold.” For now, he would drop the argument. He was in no condition to fight. Al grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around Ed before helping his brother home, sadness and euphoria giving him very conflicting emotions and thoughts. Later, after Ed had eaten, bathed, and rested, Al called Roy at the Central offices.

“Alphonse, you’re not sick, are you? You spent a lot of time around Edward, taking care of him. You could have easily gotten it yourself.”

“No. No, Roy, I’m not sick. I promise. It’s just that I… I need you here.”

“I can’t talk today, Al. I’m sorry. I have a lot of work to do, and I really just want to be left alone.”

“I know, Roy. But… I have something here. I need you to come take a look. It’s… It’s of the utmost importance.”

“I’ve told you, Alphonse. I’m not helping you with human transmutation. Not anymore. I wasn’t happy with it the first time. I accepted the second time as necessary, but never again, Alphonse. Despite what you think, researching something that’s been forbidden is not of utmost importance. Not anymore. Though,” Roy added with a sigh, “I’m beginning to understand why you did it the first time.” The admission pulled at Al’s heart, reminding him all over again of why he’d done what he did.

“It… It isn’t about that. Not… Not exactly. Please. I have something I need you to look at for me.” Roy sighed.

“I really am swamped today. I’ll be there tomorrow morning or afternoon.”

“Thank you, Roy. Thank you. I”ll see you tomorrow.” There was a crash upstairs followed by a long, loud series of thumps and bangs. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” Al hung up before Roy could say anything else, and by the time he got upstairs to check on Edward, his brother was already dead again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any typos are ever noticed, please feel free to point them out. I usually post these when I have a kitten vying for my attention, and he likes to help me type. Unfortunately, I don't always catch his little inserts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The notion of life after death is spoken of as a time for healing and peace. It is a natural way to cope with a permanent loss. There is no healing or peace found when life and death become one, however. There is only constant grieving, sadness, and pain. With no way to move on, even the strongest of bonds can be sorely tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a project we started a few years ago. It started off as a short story and exploded a little as we both kept coming up with ideas. Please feel free to let us know what you think and if there's anything you think we can improve on.

Roy put his head in his hands, elbows propped up on his desk - cleared of any piled up paperwork for once. The General had spent the night in the office, burning the midnight oil, drinking cup after cup of bitter coffee, filling out form after form until he had filled his outbox all the way to the top. He really had begun to let it pile up over the past week. Now, though, it was all finished just as the clock on the wall chimed four in the morning. The quiet dings of the bell seemed to chastise him for staying up so late. Roy surveyed his desk, noting that he had caught himself up completely and would most likely have a leisurely day tomorrow. 

Roy didn’t want leisure. He didn’t want to allow his mind the freedom to think. His gaze strayed traitorously to the couch to the right of his desk. With a silent groan at the stiffness in his limbs, Roy stood up and moved over to the plushy furniture, kneeling down next to it. He placed a hand on the cushion, smoothing a wrinkle in the velvet fabric. A bit of dried mud rubbed off onto his gloved - always gloved - hand, and he stared at it with a deep ache in his chest. Edward always got dirt on his couch from his boots. He could grow older, taller, wiser, stronger… but he would never grow up.

Roy’s throat tightened. He would never grow up. Roy would never watch him grow old. Funny how Roy had always envied Edward’s youthfulness and boundless energy. Now, he found himself reflecting morosely over it. He would never watch Edward grow his first gray hair. He wouldn’t get to hear the man, barely turned twenty, complain about the frigid winters giving him aches and pains. Roy no longer felt discontent at his own age, thirty-four, as he came to the sobering realization that his Edward would never see thirty-four.

Roy needed a drink.

Shuffling back to his desk, Roy opened the lowest drawer and took out all of the files it contained, placing them on the desk. He then removed the false bottom - a thin wooden panel - that concealed his flask. Sometimes when Hawkeye was out, Roy would dip into his stash to take the edge off of mundane office work. He certainly had some edges that needed smoothing out now. He unscrewed the cap and brought it to his nose, inhaling the sharp scent of whiskey before taking a generous gulp. The liquid tasted harsh on his tongue and burned his throat the entire way down, burning uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. 

He screwed the cap back on slowly, torn between his duties and his desires. On one hand, he had to report for work in four hours. 

On the other hand, he was so alone. 

Alphonse was expecting him to be helpful at some point within the next eight to twelve hours. 

He would never love again.

Edward’s brother needed him.

Roy needed Edward.

He unscrewed the cap. 

Turning to look out the window, Roy took a sip from his drink this time. He looked up at the moon, glowing brightly up in the inky darkness of the sky, and toasted it before sipping again. The moon, of course, made no indication that anything profound had transpired between it and the General. It simply glowed down on him, in a way that Roy might have found comforting if he wasn’t such a sorry mess. If only he could be that objective, that abstract, taking comfort in the natural processes of life like sunrays being reflected by orbiting rock onto a world that had turned its back on Roy forever by ripping the only person he had ever truly loved away from him forever, and maybe if he hadn’t been awake for over thirty hours he wouldn’t be feeling quite so melodramatic, but at this rate the odds weren’t in Roy’s favor, nor were they ever it seemed to him. In that moment, he stood by his window drinking his poison and wondering why, why was it always him?

Roy tossed his head back and swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, the corners of his eyes burning, but he was well beyond caring. 

The skirmishes with Drachma were so commonplace, so routine, that Roy hadn’t felt any trepidation at all signing away his Major to command a brigade against their enemy’s forces. Edward was a gifted fighter and strategist. Making quick work of the Drachman forces would pose almost no challenge at all for the Fullmetal Alchemist. And it didn’t. Edward had reported back a little over a week ago, lounging on his usual couch and boasting of his tidy victory. Roy gazed back at the couch now, and he could almost picture the blond with his feet propped up on the armrest, hands behind his head - the picture of nonchalance. 

Flask in hand, Roy made his way back to the couch. This time, he sat on the floor with his back propped up against it, tipping his head back to rest on the cushion. Another swig of the liquid and at least he was feeling more numb in body. The numbness of the mind would come soon enough. Or rather not soon enough. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something that made his heart beat heavier. Turning his head, Roy eyed the single strand of blond hair resting, unassuming, on the cushion. Shaking fingers reached for it and pinched it, holding it up for Roy’s eyes to focus on it. The strand was slightly kinked from being bound up by an elastic band. The dim glow of the oil lamp on Roy’s desk made the hair appear to light up, and Roy twirled it between his index finger and his thumb, watching it. The color of the sun.

In a few days, it would be their anniversary. In a few days, it would be two years since the Elrics succeeded in accomplishing the impossible. Edward hadn’t wanted any distractions, and Roy agreed completely. However, as soon as the dust had settled, Roy had found himself caught in Edward’s trap. He sighed at the memory, taking a lazy sip of his whiskey. The alchemist was positively electric. It was one thing to admire another scientist for his intellect and spark and quite another to be loved by someone with that genius. There were times when they fought. Oh, God, how they fought. Edward had gotten less short-tempered with age, but they were both hotheads by nature. However, Edward had something almost indescribable about him that kept Roy coming back for more. And Edward always took him back.

Well, Roy supposed, he could not follow Edward anymore. He sneered and stared at his flask. No, he wasn’t quite stupid enough to follow Edward now. He was a man with goals, and with or without his Major at his side, he would see his political ambitions come to fruition. 

Speaking of which, Roy admitted to himself that he would have to call off work soon. They don’t hand out promotions to drunk officers who show up to run the government, and Roy could tell by the half-empty flask that his little binge session would stay with him long after he was to report. He pushed himself up, letting Edward’s hair drop to the carpet, and shuffled over to his phone. It took him a bit longer than necessary to operate the rotary dial, but even in his inebriated state, he knew Hawkeye wouldn’t be too pleased to have to come get him at this early hour and take him home. But he couldn’t trust his reputation to anyone else. Hawkeye would judge, but she wouldn’t tell. She might even understand. They’d all been close to Edward. Just as he was thinking this, his Lieutenant picked up the line.

“Sir.”

“Lieutenant,” Roy articulated to the best of his intoxicated ability into the phone, “I’ve finished all of my paperwork. May I go home now?”

“I’ll be right there, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any typos are ever noticed, please feel free to point them out. I usually post these when I have a kitten vying for my attention, and he likes to help me type. Unfortunately, I don't always catch his little inserts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The notion of life after death is spoken of as a time for healing and peace. It is a natural way to cope with a permanent loss. There is no healing or peace found when life and death become one, however. There is only constant grieving, sadness, and pain. With no way to move on, even the strongest of bonds can be sorely tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a project we started a few years ago. It started off as a short story and exploded a little as we both kept coming up with ideas. Please feel free to let us know what you think and if there's anything you think we can improve on. Chapter six might be a while in the making. That's for Classy to write, and she's currently dealing with finals.

Roy didn’t show up at Alphonse’s house until past lunch time. A pang hit his heart as he realized that his mind had called it Alphonse’s and not the brothers’. He had slept long past noon, and even still his head was pounding. When he knocked on the door, choosing not to use the key Edward had made for him, it was more him leaning against the doorframe trying not to fall on his ass and his flat hand smacking against the wood than it was actually knocking.

He didn’t look up when the door opened. He just followed the pair of feet into the house and in through to the living room. He was mumbling to himself the whole way there about the memories flooding through his brain.

Al had taken pictures every chance he got, and now, they all lined the wall leading through the entrance way, past the kitchen, and into the living room. A lot were of Roy and Edward, but just as many were of Roy and Al or the brothers. When they reached the hallway, Roy looked at the wall and took his time looking at each picture, and the person leading him let him. They never rushed him or demanded he go faster. It wasn’t like Alphonse to push anyone like that. He knew Roy would be grieving. The quiet ways about the younger brother was something Roy appreciated. He appreciated having time to reflect on Edward, to remember.

Roy remembered the time at the fair when Edward had insisted he’d be fine eating before going on the spinning ride, how sick his boyfriend had gotten afterwards. He could even hear Edward’s voice still. ‘I’m not a child, Roy,’ Edward had snapped, arms crossed and eyes glaring. ‘I can handle myself.’ Roy had simply laughed and held his hands up in gesture meant to placate Edward. It had only made him more irate and had prompted him to eat more than he should have. The memory, though bittersweet now, caused a small smile to pull at the edges of Roy’s mouth.

Of course, there was also the time, commemorated forever on Al’s wall, that Roy and Edward had taken Alphonse out for dinner the first night after Al had gotten over a cold. Al had tried desperately to stay home, insisting that he was still tired and felt weak. Edward hadn’t taken no for answer and had picked the younger boy up and carried him out to Roy’s car. Al had continued protesting the entire way to the restaurant but stopped after Edward promised to buy him his favorite dessert.

Eventually, Roy couldn’t handle any more pictures or memories. It hurt too much to remember everything all at once. Especially with the scent of Edward hanging in the air and permeating Roy’s thoughts. So, he continued towards the living room, forcing himself to not look at any more pictures. He stopped at the very last one just before he entered the room, though. It had been taken just before Edward left for his mission on the Drachman border. It was one of Roy and Ed embracing, Edward grinning at the camera. It was the picture taken just after Edward had received his orders to go. Edward had been the one to insist on its being taken. It was how Roy had known that despite how confident they both were in Edward’s safe return, a part of Edward still knew the dangers and possibilities. It had told Roy that despite how confident Edward acted, inside he was still scared. Roy wished now that he had been a little less confident in Edward’s safe return. He wished now that his internal soldier would have told him not to be stupid, that Edward was still a soldier and that soldiers were always killed even in the easiest of battles. Maybe if he had been less cocky then, it might not hurt as much now.

“That’s not true,” Alphonse’s soft voice told him. “You know it’s not. It still would hurt just as much.” Roy nodded in silent agreement, not even sure if he had actually spoken aloud without knowing it and Alphonse was replying to him, or if he was just hearing Al’s voice in his head. Either way, it was a true statement. Roy sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. He was not going cry. Not here, not now. It wouldn’t be helpful to Alphonse, and that was why he was here. Alphonse needed him to be helpful today.

“Sorry ‘m late, Alphonse. I had… had a long night.” Roy ran a hand over his face, groaning softly. He was in no shape to do this. He probably never would be. He sniffled and stumbled over thin air. The feet in front of him stopped suddenly, and Roy ran headlong into him.

“Roy Mustang, have you been drinking,” a very familiar voice demanded. Roy finally looked up, surprise and shock etched on his face. After a minute, he shook his head. He had to be hallucinating. There was no way Edward was standing in front of him, glare in place and arms crossed. Oh, what would he give to have Edward’s anger pouring down on him again. Roy closed his eyes for a minute, and when he opened them again, Alphonse was indeed standing there in front of him.

“Sorry, Alphonse. For a moment I thought… The light must be… playing tricks on me. I thought I saw… him. I… might… have been drinking last night… and this morning. ‘M sorry.” Al’s gaze softened as he took in the older man. It wasn’t Al’s nature to scold when someone was clearly so down. Instead, he bit his lip and shifted.

“Uhm… R-Roy? How about I get you a glass of water, okay? When you’re feeling better, we need to talk.” Roy’s shoulders slumped.

“Yeah. I know,” he whispered. He allowed Alphonse to guide him to the armchair and help him sit. He leaned his head against the back, eyes closed. His heart was aching more than he could bear from that split second when he’d thought he’d seen Edward. Al returned with water and pills, both of which he made sure Roy took. After, Roy sighed and put his face in his hands.

“Al, I can’t do this. It… It’s only been two days. I need… I need some time alone. Please. I’m not ready to… to plan anything.”

“No… Roy, I know. That… That’s not why I called you. It’s uhm… It’s a little more complicated than that. Just…” Suddenly, Al cut off as Roy’s vision seemed to double, and there, standing next to his brother, was Edward. Roy blinked rapidly, his mind trying to put together what it was he was seeing.

“I… I… What… Edward…?” Roy leaned heavily against the back of the chair, feeling like he was about to faint.

“Roy, it’s me.”

It was him. Roy couldn’t believe it; he didn’t trust his own eyes. He pushed himself out of the armchair and moved as if in a trance towards the blond. He was standing there with his arms crossed in front of him wearing a simple pair of slacks and a white button down shirt that was most certainly not Edward, but the rest of him was. Roy reached up and ran a shaking hand through his long hair, pulling it carelessly out of the loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. “It is you,” he murmured, putting both hands on the man’s strong shoulders and gripping as if he would never let go again. 

“Trust me, Roy. I’m as confused as you are,” Edward replied, staring hard at Roy’s face as if unsure how to act, ”Alphonse attempted something… reckless, and now, here I am. Very much alive. Sort of.” Roy’s mouth gaped open, and strange choking noises escaped. Roy could barely breathe as he listened to Edward.

Edward was talking to him still, but Roy couldn’t hear what Ed was saying. It was like the world had suddenly gone on mute. After a minute, it seemed that Edward realized the extent of Roy’s distress. He knelt on the floor in front of Roy and took the general’s face in his hands. Roy made out his own name on Edward’s lips, but he couldn’t read anything more. He could see fear creeping into his boyfriend’s eyes, and he wanted, needed, to do something to stop that fear. That was a look he never saw on Edward, and he was not prepared to see it now.

“I’m… okay,” he heard himself saying. His voice sounded rusty even to himself. He knew Edward wouldn’t buy it for a second, so he tried again. “I’m okay… Ed. I’m okay… I’m okay.” Edward looked a little less scared now, but Roy couldn’t stop repeating himself. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Edward or himself now. Ed took his hands, squeezing tightly. The world’s volume turned on just as suddenly as it turned off, and Roy realized that Edward was now trying to take care of him.

“Roy… Roy, stop. It’s fine if you’re not okay. It’s a big shock.” Edward sighed. “Look. Why don’t you go lay down for a while or something, okay? You… You look really pale.” Roy nodded and allowed Edward to pull him to his feet, leading him gently to a guest room. In the back of Roy’s mind, something told him that was wrong. He hadn’t slept in a guest room at any point during the entire duration of his and Edward’s relationship. He had always slept in Edward’s room. That thought and all others were gone as soon as his head hit the pillow, though.

When Roy woke up, it was dark and long past dinnertime. He was feeling significantly less overwhelmed and upset now, too. He stretched and groaned, then went in search of Edward and Alphonse. He found Alphonse first.

“Alphonse. Where’s Edward? I wanted to talk to him some more. And… just talk.”

“Oh. Uhm… He… He went to bed. He’s sleeping now. I’m sorry, Roy. I know you want to see him and talk to him, but he… he needs his rest. After… everything that’s happened, his body is still… it’s still recovering. You can talk to him in the morning. I promise. Oh! You slept through dinner. I can make you something really fast if you’re hungry.” Roy had known Alphonse long enough to know that he was a rotten liar. Even worse, whenever he was lying he started talking just like this- fast and trying to change the subject with every sentence. Roy let it go this time. He’d found that if Alphonse was lying, he usually had a good reason to. He just hoped that with everything going on, with Edward not actually being dead, that it hadn’t changed things between him and Edward.

“Food… Food sounds good. I haven’t really eaten much today.”

“Right. I’ll be right back. You just… sit there on the couch, and I’ll bring something to you.” Roy obeyed, a slightly amused smile coming to his lips. Al wasn’t gone long; he must have had something already set aside for Roy. Roy ate quickly and found himself yawning again. However, he stayed up a while longer just talking with Alphonse. Though, mostly, he was lecturing Alphonse for performing human transmutation. Again. He was sure Edward had already given Al the lecture, but he needed to make sure the sweet, innocent blond never tried it again. When he was sure Al understood just how dangerous it had been, he gave the younger brother a quick hug, bid him a good night, and went back to the guest room. It still felt weird, and he missed sleeping with Edward, but if he had been asked to sleep here, then he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any typos are ever noticed, please feel free to point them out. I usually post these when I have a kitten vying for my attention, and he likes to help me type. Unfortunately, I don't always catch his little inserts. Just a little reminder: Chapter Six will be slow in coming. Classy is in charge of chapter six, and she's currently battling final exams.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The notion of life after death is spoken of as a time for healing and peace. It is a natural way to cope with a permanent loss. There is no healing or peace found when life and death become one, however. There is only constant grieving, sadness, and pain. With no way to move on, even the strongest of bonds can be sorely tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a project we started a few years ago. It started off as a short story and exploded a little as we both kept coming up with ideas. Please feel free to let us know what you think and if there's anything you think we can improve on.

A scream pierced the stillness of the morning. Roy shot out of bed, out of his room and down the hallway in a flash. He had heard that scream too many times in his life. As he ran towards Ed’s room, he spluttered curse words and yelled for Alphonse. Edward couldn’t be in trouble again; he’d only just come back. Something couldn’t have happened. Something had happened, oh God, oh God! 

Roy didn’t even break stride as he reached Edward’s room. He simply shot an arm out and wrenched the door open, storming in like a man possessed with his ignition gloves at the ready. He prepared himself for an assailant, but there was no one there save for Edward himself, sitting up in bed with a hand over his heart, the other tangled in his messy blond locks. Roy looked around wildly for a minute before realizing that there was no-one else in the room besides himself and Edward.

Still not pacified, Roy approached Edward and sat down next to him, bringing the man’s head to his chest in a strong embrace. Edward patted his shoulder to indicate he was alright, but Roy didn’t let go.

“Everything’s alright, Roy,” he reassured him weakly, voice rusty and deep.

“Edward, you were screaming,” Roy protested, burying his face in blond hair.

“I know.”

Alphonse entered the room, looking much calmer than the man who had preceded him. “Roy, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he quipped, a wry smile on his face.”

Edward tore himself from Roy’s embrace and fixed his brother with a shocked look. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit too soon to be making jokes?”

Al didn’t stop smiling, but he did have the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry, Brother, but I spent all night thinking that one up.”

“I taught you better, Alphonse,” Ed mock-chided, “All night and that’s all you came up with?”

“What is going on?” Roy demanded crossly. He took comfort at the brothers’ lightheartedness, but his head was spinning with questions. “Was I the only one who heard you screaming like you were being murdered?”

“Well,” Edward started with a little shake of his head, looking up at Roy through his sweat-matted bangs. “That’s sort of the problem. We didn’t think you were in the right state of mind last night to know this, but,” Edward trailed off, shooting Alphonse a glance, “I’m not really alive. I mean, I am right now, but I wasn’t a few minutes ago and I won’t be in twelve hours.”

“What?” Roy mumbled, brow furrowed, “I don’t understand, Ed.”

“The Gate cheated again,” Edward elaborated, looking like he was having a difficult time choosing his words, “It didn’t want to give my soul back completely, so instead of maiming me like last time, it worked out some sort of… Some kind of joint custody.”

“Joint custody,” Roy repeated, his tone measured, “Are you implying that you really are a ghost?” He reached out a hand and pinched Ed’s cheek. “Funny, you feel pretty solid to me.”

“Ow! Cut it out!” Ed yelled, swatting Roy’s hand away, “No, I am not a ghost, in spite of Al’s hilarious joke.” His sarcasm was still as bitter and impressive as ever. “The closest thing I could relate it to would be vampirism. From what we can tell so far, I die at sundown every night and come back to life at sunrise. We don’t have the times worked out quite yet or anything since it’s only been a few days. We don’t have much data at all on this yet either, really, but from what I can tell it’s going to keep happening. In the next few weeks, barring any changes, Al and I plan to begin lab experiments regarding the nature of this phenomenon.”

Roy stared at Ed.

“It really is genius of The Gate,” Ed continued, “This situation it’s come up with. In all of the other known instances of Human Transmutation, The Gate makes no pretense about not giving you what you want. This, though,” he trailed off. 

“Well, it isn’t ideal,” Al finished, “But it’s something.”

Roy stared at Al.

“How did I accomplish it?” Al interpreted Roy’s stare with what sounded suspiciously like glee, “I’m glad you asked me that, Roy.”

“Not that I condone such volatile experimentation,” Edward interjected quickly, “But you really are going to want to hear this, Roy. It’s brilliantly stupid on Al’s part.”

Al looked like he couldn’t decide how to react to his brother’s comment for a moment before launching into his explanation. “You know how my brother used a blood rune to bind my soul to our father’s armour? Well, it’s that, conceptually, except I used Edward’s body rather than a suit of armour. I had thought about copying our past transmutation exactly, but since I had more resources at my disposal - including my brother’s body - I was able to accomplish the transmutation a bit better. Since the organic material had very little time to deteriorate, the conditions for the transmutation were ideal. I’d been modifying our notes on the subject for a while now, updating our information in case I ever had to use it again.”

Roy shuddered at the implications of Al’s words. The phrase “my brother’s body” didn’t sit well with him. Roy didn’t want to think of Edward so objectively. “That’s unbelievable. Though, I have to admit that when it comes to you two, abnormal is normal. Your skill is amazing, Alphonse.”

“It really is,” Edward agreed, nodding, “Alphonse saw more of The Truth than I did when he lost his body. We think that might have something to do with his success.”

“If you would show Roy the rune, Brother?” Al requested, blushing heavily. 

Edward shrugged and lifted the hem of his shirt. From Roy’s perspective, the first thing he noticed was the awful bruising on Ed’s back. “Dear God, Edward,” he swore before realizing that wasn’t what Ed was showing him. Beneath his right pectoral muscle, at the bottom of his ribcage, was a blood rune roughly the size of his fist. He reached out, brushing the skin with his fingertips. It was perfectly smooth. 

“Al made the initial blood rune permanent with a mixture of blood and ink,” Edward told him with a grimace, “Don’t touch it too much.”

“He had two limbs severed, attached robotics to his nervous system, and has been in more fights than anyone else in the military, and yet-”

“Alphonse,” Edward warned, “Do not.”

“And yet he cries like a baby over one tattoo,” Al finished smugly.

Roy smirked. “You cried, Fullmetal?”

“Don’t you start on me, idiot,” Ed snapped, glaring daggers at Roy. “Alphonse, if you ever bring that up again, you’re getting one to match. Believe me, it would thrill me to do the honors.”

“Alright, Brother.” Alphonse raised his hands in surrender. 

“Anyway,” Ed continued, “This way, it isn’t going to rub or wash off, and it’s unlikely to be broken by a physical injury there. All the same, I’m going to have to request to be taken off of active duty. The rune would most likely be safe, but people will ask too many questions.”

Roy nodded. “Makes sense.” Then, he thought about it a bit harder. “Hold up. Not to undermine your work, Alphonse, but how is any of this going to matter if everyone still thinks you’re dead?”

Alphonse gave him a scheming look. “That’s where you come in, General.”

“Say no more,” Roy interrupted, quick on the uptake, “Who am I making the checks out to?” The Elric brothers’ ideas usually involved his money in one way or another.

“It’ll be simple enough to cover all the press up as a premature diagnosis,” Edward mused aloud, “There are really only two people who knew for certain that I died. The doctor that called my time of death and the mortician.”

“Please be very generous when you pay them off,” Al added a bit nervously.

“Yeah, Al’s too soft for prison,” Ed quipped, staring at Roy.

“You’ll have to stay hidden for a while, Ed,” Roy told him sternly, having experienced the blond’s violent reactions to house arrest firsthand on many occasions, “Your miraculous recovery needs to be a slow, believable one.”

“Of course,” Ed agreed easily. Abruptly, he announced, “Al, how about you go make some breakfast? I’m hungry.”

“But the sun’s barely up! It’s six in the morning!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, and I’m starving,” Ed repeated, never taking his eyes off of Roy. 

Al moved towards the door, admonishing Edward playfully as he went. “Honestly, Brother, you’re always hungry! I feel like you never stop eating!”

Then, he shut the door, and they were alone. 

Roy smirked. “Don’t you want to go lend Alphonse a hand? It’s rude to make him cook for you and clean up after you all the time. He’s your brother, not your maid.”

“But wouldn’t you rather I lend you a hand?” Edward practically purred, snaking a hand around Roy’s waist and pulling their bodies flush together, kneeling on the bed. “Haven’t you missed me?”

Roy let his cheek rest on the top of Edward’s head, fingers trailing lightly down his back so as not to aggravate the bruising. When his hands reached Ed’s hips, he gripped them tightly. “You have no idea.”

“I do.” Edward tugged at Roy’s hair, forcing their eyes to meet. “I’ve felt what you must have been feeling.” He nipped at Roy’s lower lip, playing with it gently. His fingernails grazed up along Roy’s sharp jawline, fingers gripping his neck and pulling him in harder.

Roy’s lips parted in a gasp, and he let himself be pushed onto his back. He looked up into Edward’s eyes, saw the pain there, and knew he must be wearing the same expression. “I lost you,” he whispered, almost not daring to say it too loudly, “It was like I’d lost myself.” 

Edward shut his eyes tightly, hands balled into fists on either side of Roy’s head. “Don’t say that.”

Roy reached up, brushing his thumbs over Ed’s eyebrows, eyelids, and the dark circles underneath his eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles in his skin. “Why not? It’s true.” He swallowed audibly, suddenly nervous to confess his thoughts. “When you were,” he paused for a moment, struggling to get his words out, “Gone, it was the first moment that I had ever really doubted myself.”

“Roy,” Edward interrupted, but Roy was determined to voice his thoughts.

“All of these strong people are backing me and my ambitions, but without you, I felt hopeless for the first time in a long time,” he confessed solemnly, “As if, if I didn’t have you, it would be impossible.”

Edward’s eyes were wide. He seemed to be at a loss for words for once.

Gently, he pulled Edward down to him and kissed his lips, parted and waiting for it. Their tongues met, sliding against each other and, damn, Ed tasted good. A shiver ran through him as the blond leaned his full weight against him, hands free to tug at his thick hair. Roy ground his pelvis up, groaning with want at the contact. Edward pressed down in response, hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. His grip on Roy’s hair tightened as he guided the man’s torso up off of the bed slightly, mouth prying Roy’s open wantonly. Little moans escaped him as his tongue delved into the other man’s mouth. 

Roy’s lower abs strained to hold himself up where Ed wanted him, but his mind was too preoccupied with those noises Ed was making to pay it much attention. He braced his hands behind him to keep their balance, attempting to keep Edward’s pace with everything he had. Which, Roy realized, was slowing down. He pulled away slightly to look at Edward, who was staring back with half-lidded eyes. “You okay?” he asked, pushing himself into a sitting position with Edward perched on his lap, arms around each other’s shoulders.

“Yeah, just tired,” Edward replied, leaning in to rest his head on Roy’s shoulder.

Roy smiled. “Why don’t you stay up here, and I’ll bring your breakfast up to you?”

He moved to pull away, but Edward hung on. “Would you stay?” he asked quietly.

That simple request nearly broke his heart. Edward never admitted to needing people under any circumstances. Roy tightened his hold on the blond. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any typos are ever noticed, please feel free to point them out. I usually post these when I have a kitten vying for my attention, and he likes to help me type. Unfortunately, I don't always catch his little inserts.
> 
> I am so sorry for the long wait on an update. Classy and I were busy with the holidays, work, and school.


End file.
